


Another Judge

by SohlOrchid



Category: Dredd (2012), Judge Dredd - All Media Types
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, Anderson mention, F/M, Isobel Vega is mine, Out of Character, Rico mention, Short One Shot, movie-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12989904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SohlOrchid/pseuds/SohlOrchid
Summary: An early morning in Joe's life.





	Another Judge

**Author's Note:**

> I'm baa-aack!!

She smells like smoke and stale beer when she collapses into bed, but she's survived another night on the streets and made it home, so Joe rolls over to pull her into his embrace. She's unconscious before he settles with his face tucked against one bare shoulder and his arms looped around her narrow waist. The last two weeks of undercover work have been hell on their schedules, on her circadian rhythm and resolve especially. She nearly quit after the first week, too tired and stressed to continue, but Joe reminded her of what they do. Of the Oath that they mostly follow and of her rookie's resolve to see the mission completed. She couldn't have left the rookie to follow through on his own, so she'd pressed on. He can only assume they collared the perp while he slept, judging by how she neglects to set an alarm.

His own alarm will go off in a few hours, so he closes his eyes and pulls the smaller judge against him. Her even breathing and warm body lull him to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

Joe wakes in a tangle of limbs. He's somehow shifted to the opposite side of the bed, face pressed to the mattress and one arm hanging off. The sheets are twisted around him, twisted around them both and pinning Vega against his side. One of her legs is tucked beneath his thigh. He turns his head, sliding his chin over the rough sheets to see her. She's still asleep, ice-chip eyes closed to the darkness of the room and wild curls spilling across the pillow. One of her narrow hands with slender fingers wraps gently around his bicep.

His alarm is set to sound in ten minutes, but Joe remains in bed. He hasn't seen much of Vega in the last fortnight. Although bruises are beginning to pool beneath her eyes and her cheeks look a little more gaunt, she's none the worse for wear. She's Street, like him, like her rookie, like Anderson, and they've all had worse than lack of sleep. Vega's one of those people that live to sleep, though, so she'll likely take however many sick days she's been granted and sleep away the stress of her latest assignment.

Beating the alarm awake always leaves Joe feeling rested. He flips the switch to "off" before the annoying buzzer can wake Vega, then he twists onto his back and begins untangling himself from the sheets and the woman.

Vega is all limbs. She's tall and willowy and deceptively strong. Even in sleep, she fights him, briefly tightening her hold before rolling over, away from the bedside lamp he flicks on. Now that there's a bit of light, Joe notices the fresh bruises mottling her bronze skin, all likely a result of busting the sex trafficking ring. Thugs never go quietly, even when it's in their best interest. He wonders vaguely, indifferently, if she was forced to put anyone down, but then decides it doesn't matter. The violence of a Judge's life, the responsibility of executing when necessary, has calloused them both. Vega especially, obviously, will lose no sleep over another dead criminal.

She was his rookie once, years ago. Although she'd never been as green or wide-eyed as Anderson, Joe had still been responsible for snuffing out the last of her innocence. He'd made them both criminals after that. He and Rico were responsible for her destruction, her eagerness to break the most broken rule of the Oath: Judges shall not form relationships, physical or emotional, as it leads to partiality and error in judgment.

A sliver of guilt nags at him as he rises from the bed. He leaves the lamp on and pads across the floor to the en-suite bathroom. Like most Judges' apartments, Joe's is nothing special. He's not home enough to decorate, nor does he have the resources to care or furnish, so the place is sparse. The most recent addition is a second bedside table where, after a quick glance over his shoulder to confirm, Vega's Lawgiver waits.

In the bathroom, Joe turns on the shower and steps under the harsh spray. He keeps the water cold, waking himself with brutal efficiency. He runs a bar of soap over his body and hair then rinses and exists the narrow stall. Snagging a towel from the cupboard above the toilet, he scrubs that over his skin, catching most of the moisture, before tying it around his waist.

Vega is still on the bed but awake when he steps back into the bedroom. One arm is bent over her forehead to block out most of the lamp's light, yet the shadows cast do nothing to dull her icy eyes. She watches sleepily and silently as Joe dons the black spandex all Judges wear beneath their leather and armor.

Joe's feeling compassionate this morning, or as compassionate as he's ever able to feel, and perches on the edge of the bed, on Vega's side, to tug on his boots. He glances at her as he does up the laces and buckles.

"You get 'em?" he asks. He attempts to whisper, to match the quiet of the room, but he's never mastered the hiss of air over words to actually whisper. Low and raspy is as close as he gets.

Vega nods beneath her arm. "Yeah," she says shortly. "Along with most of his business associates. All Judges on the lookout for the few remaining, but I doubt they'll be found anytime soon, and it's no longer an op so..."

So it doesn't really matter if the other men are caught, Joe finishes silently. The operation is complete; the trafficking ring is dismantled. The other known criminals will be arrested and charged if found, but no one is actively looking for them.

Joe nods and stands, shrugging into the heavy, armor-plated jacket he'd hung in the closest the night before. He zips it up then snaps the belt of weapons around his waist, his Lawgiver pressing into his hip. Only his helmet remains, waiting for him on the counter in the kitchen. He steps back to the bed and plants a hand into the pillow beside Vega's wild hair, dipping the bed and leaning over her.

"Sleep well," he tells her in one of his rare moments of softness, leaning closer and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.

Vega doesn't smile, but the lines around her eyes and mouth ease and she raises a hand to run over his jaw. He forewent shaving, so her calloused fingertips rasp over his whiskers. "Stay safe," she says in return.

The younger, slighter Judge rolls over to turn off the lamp and sleep away the day as Joe exits the bedroom. He hurries through a bowl fo cereal and synthetic milk before checking over his weapons once more, donning his helmet, and exiting the room.

Joe's apartment block is one of the few unfrequented by other Judges. It's worked in his favor in the long run, as he and Vega rarely have to worry about running into anyone they know. Not that any of their colleagues would look too closely. Both of them have a reputation as hardasses, and her presence at his place could be explained away as mentor and student. Former rookies often hold a close bond to their once-assessor, and the assessor, in turn, looks out for their once-rookies, especially the first rookie. Joe, despite his earnest intentions to the contrary, has a soft spot for Judge Isobel Vega, the first rookie he passed.

The Judge rides the elevator to the floors beneath the block where vehicles are parks. He swings onto his Lawmaster and ignites the motor. Immediately, the onboard screen blinks to life, filling with reports of crime, all listed in red until a Judge responds, those lines turning blue. The earpiece in his helmet crackles to life in the same instant, and the desk Judges at Control fill his ear as they relay new calls. With a few presses to the screen, Joe is clocked in and ready to judge his share of the six percent of crime.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! It's been a while since I've posted /anything/, but man does it feel good to be back! I apologize for the haitus. Finally feeling like I've got my muse back, I've been reworking some older one-shots and hope to post them. There is a longer, in-depth original piece in the works, but for now, I've decided to enjoy the scenes that come into my head and post them here. 
> 
> -Sohl Orchid


End file.
